Providence Incarcerated
by Chaotic Serenity
Summary: In light of choice, we sometimes take a path which we regret. On a mission for Megatron, Rampage is forced to face the past he has forced himself to forget...and perhaps save his soul in the process. R for content.
1. Prologue: Forsaken

Providence Incarcerated 

_Author's Notes:_ After writing a Rampage fic, I couldn't help but try again; therefore, Forsaken Providence was born. A story of Rampage, delving into the mind of a killer, his master, and a brush with the past. _Italicized_ wording represents thoughts. Like my one other story, this one deals with the encompassing voice that binds up all.

**Warnings:** Very dark, heavy mentionings of violence, transformer cursing, etc, etc.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I own no part of Rampage, Megatron, or any of the Transformers mentioned in this story. They are all copyrighted as rights to the creators of Beast Wars. However, characters who are not canon within the realm of the show are copyrighted to me.

  


Providence Incarcerated

  


Prologue: Forsaken

He stood at the wind-beaten peak, swirling, crystal like patterns of silken rain drops pounding upon his metallic frame with hurricane force. Yet, he stood strong in the wake of the storm's chaos, pitting his unending life force against nature's screaming fury. There was no mind heeded to the powerful gusts of angry air. Why should he worry? For one who's soul would burn forever strong, the empty emotion of pain was a welcome occurrence. Pain told one he or she was still alive.

He felt no pain.

However, he knew he was still alive. The scientists who had torn his spark apart searching for the secrets of the universe had told him so, the voice that haunted his very being reminded him, every life he took told him so, and, most of all, the hunter whose spark he held so previous--for the hunter desired to end the suffering--vowed to remove that life from his hands. Was this living? Vivid recollections of a binding past reveal no answers to one's desperate ploy for living, for the battle is rarely fought without.

There was no answer, or so the strong one had discovered in his time. A century of living had opened no other doors then the psychotic path of twisted metal he walked. 

But even with all this power, this furious devouring of need and souls, he was not free. Not in years had he seen the light of a morning with a free man's jovial delight in his heart, or carefully followed the discovered path to picking up the shattered pieces of his broken dreams, or even sat upon a hidden sandlock with a lover by his side, an exuberance in his heart, and the simple hopes for another bright day.

Bound in devil's chains he lay, a prisoner of sinful past and a tyrant's merciless hand. How he yearned to be free of the constricting vice that held his spark, to be one and one only for just a hazy day's sunset.

But he was not to be free from the consuming affliction; the master was calling again. He knew he was, could feel the tiny strands of his shattered spark protesting the searing pain of being compressed within a tight, metallic grip.

He fell to his knees, sense of resistance still alive, burning to the very core of what remained of his spark, yet even as the burning torture reached it's screeching climax, he welcomed the pain--he was still alive.

_Resistance is futile._

Primus, how loathe those words. For years had he been **their** master. Now he was but another slave. He snarled in rage as the voice came over his intercom, it's seductively smooth tones filled with an underlying edge of repulsive deceit filling his ears with a much hated set of words.

Damn him to the Pit.

"Return to base, Rampage," Megatron's voice boomed from his transmitter. A pause and then he continued, "Did you really think you could escape?"   
  


Prologue to destiny. :smiles: See the results of a twisted mind and whimper in it's wake. This won't be a gigantic epic, but I can't promise it'll be short, either. At this point, I'm seeing ten chapters at best, but I doubt it'll get that far. Ta ta for now! Oh, and do send comments to [Pitten_5@hotmail.com][1].

   [1]: mailto:Pitten_5@hotmail.com



	2. Part 1: Paroxysm Escalating

Providence Incarcerated 

_Author's Notes:_ I am the clown who came to town to turn thy world upside-down. Bwahaha... Continuing with our story, Rampage falls beneath the hand of Megatron only to be sent on a mission whose end may save him in more ways then one. For now, though, we only see a look into the hell that is being a soldier of Megatron...and Rampage has a plan. Oh, and the setting is right before the Feral Scream eps.

**Warnings:** Mature themes, torture, violence, transformer cursing, etc. It's a dark story, kiddies.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I own no part of Transformers, including the characters Rampage, Megatron, and Quickstrike. Plus, any other transformer from the series mentioned here does not belong to me. Characters who are NOT canon, belong to moi.

  
  


Providence Incarcerated

  


Part 1: Paroxysm Escalating

  


Megatron couldn't fight the smile that pounced upon his menacing features as the struggling Rampage fell to his knees before him as the leader drove the imprisoned minion to his knees to a suffering beyond pain. He sniffed the air as he was wont to when the seductive scent of burning spark permeated the atmosphere with its gratifying stench. What beauty, what majesty, what...power. Power to control Cybertron's once most volatile--and ultimately failed--experiment. The rush such endowment to do so had on him was, to say in the least, breathtaking.

Predacon commander Megatron was feared.

Had sadism been measurable, the baneful Predacon would have peaked the scale at a new record years before. Most **Predacons** feared his insipid taste for pain, much less the Maximals. Megatron was a power that was to be acknowledged as a respected--and feared--force to reckon with, as most of his crew had discovered.

At times, the desire to suffer the mutinous Rampage a fate far worse then death--though, in Rampage's eyes, that had already occurred--was nearly all consuming. However, Rampage was fortuitous in his exploits today, for Megatron restrained himself, giving the one final squeeze before dropping the spark box safely into a subspace pocket.

Rampage had survived this encounter for one reason: Megatron's conduct was fueled by an upset and not bloodthirsty fervor.

It wasn't as if the damage had already been done: he lay, humiliated and pained, underneath the restraint of the purplish commander by the results of an energon knife's careful slice. The power to destroy all who opposed him restrained by a simple, makeshift box.

How the hatred flamed so vigorously through the ever-living robot's infrastructure, throbbing to the very core of what was left of his spark.

Finally, after several moments of shameful mortification of prostration before Megatron, Rampage found the strength to lift his head to Megatron's level; the drained Predacon just wanted an answer for his suffering.

Seeing the slight recuperation on Rampage's part, Megatron spoke. "Aww...Rampage, how kind of you to grace us with your presence. We missed you at today's battle. Would you like to share with us the rest of us your whereabouts at this time?"

Rampage skillfully hid the shudder that manifested itself within him. That dangerous edge to the tyrant's voice was a put on, just a calm front for the hurricane about to smash it's way through. Megatron was incensed, and the last thing the crab bot wanted to happen was to have another run in with Megatron's frightening obsession with anguish--he knew too well how to break a will.

He answered carefully, "I was occupied, Megatron. Forgive me, but I had no notice of the conceived battle plans to attack the Maximals.

A hand smashed down furiously onto the computer console, and suddenly Rampage's world exploded in pain, seizures racking his frame.

"Don't lie to me, Rampage! You were present at the briefing, as was everyone else. How dare you defy my orders!" the commander bellowed.

With that, he increased the pressure on the spark box, smiling all the while at the disgusting spectacle with a glint in his optics.

Other Predacons suddenly began seeping into the room. It wasn't a rare sight to see Megatron flex his power over insurgent Rampage, and even though they were Predacons and had witnessed the scene over and over, it was still a terrifying one to take in. Eventually, those who grew tired of the breaking of wills left the room, leaving only the faithful Inferno to stand guard for his queen. Even the choleric Quickstrike made his leave a hasty one.

And Megatron loved it. More power to his already growing stack as more Predacons stayed faithful to the Predacon cause because of fear. It was **the** only way for to run such a crew.

The sadistic, yet furious, expression on Megatron's face never left, even as he slowly relieved pressure on the half-spark. Electric currents shot there way through Rampage's body continuously as his life-support system desperately attempted to keep him conscious.

Now he couldn't even lift his head as the purple-schemed terror finished his speech.

"Now, now Rampage, you know better then to sneak off when I need you. In fact, I believe you should make it up to me, shouldn't we?" He was grinning again. Abruptly, the smile faded. "You will go to the Gamma sector in the far west, following the coordinates I give you. You will be accompanied by Inferno," Rampage winced at this, "and you are to search for whatever may seem, well, out of place. Bring back the exact coordinates of your findings, if any, and, while you're at it, try to find and return with this."

An image suddenly alighted upon the view screen. A sizable, grooved object of orbed structure was the object of desire. Obviously, it was one of great value, as Megatron never wasted time or soldiers on pure objective searches without cause to reason it. Whatever it was, Rampage didn't recognize it, but, apparently, Inferno did so as he suddenly gasped from behind.

"Your majesty, you wish for us to search the alien hive?"

Rolling his optical sensors at Inferno's choice of wording, Megatron then nodded. "Yes, Inferno, the alien, er, hive. The Hunter, as those of us with half a mind left know it as. You are to search there, at the crash site, for an object that resembles this." He pointed once more at the screen.

Rampage was at a loss for words. Megatron wanted to send him...treasure hunting? For what, a piece of metal junk? He growled low in his throat; he was not an idle play thing.

"You want us to go searching for that hunk of junk? What could you possibly do with something so useless?"

Slowly turning, Megatron faced the outspoken crab. "Yes, I suppose I do want you to go searching for that "hunk of junk," as you so nicely dubbed the epithet. I mean, seeing that I addressed you in my speech, I would assume that you be intelligent enough to assume the same as I."

With a snarl, Rampage jumped back and transformed. Inferno pulled out his flame thrower as he did so, but Megatron waved him away.

"Let him go, Inferno. He'll learn his own lessons."

_Slag him to the Pit_, Rampage thought, now eye to eye with the commander. "What if I refuse to go on your little treasure hunt?"

Megatron smiled and pulled out the spark box where Rampage could see it. "Let the games begin, then."

He wasn't able to hide the shudder that brought a wider grin to the commander's face. Slag him.

Few realized the full extent of real torture was. A 'bot's suffering was not reduced to the simple restrictions to pain. Just as easily as a Cybertronian's spark could be manipulated in a painful way, it could also--just as easily--be used for giving one the greatest of pleasures.

Or the most horrific of pleasures, and with Megatron's abhorrent tastes for pain, the possibilities were endless as to how to win the game "what brings Rampage to his knees fastest."

"Slag you," he hissed.

"No Rampage, slag you. The dice is in my hand, now move out or pay the price for your contumacious nature."

Defeated, the 'bot slowly regressed back to beast mode. "What are the coordinates," he asked quietly.

"Eighty-five degrees west, and fifteen degrees south in the Gamma sector, as said before. Go, now, before the Maximals recognize we're moving."

Turning to leave, the crab 'bot slowly began to roll away, Inferno in tow, when Megatron suddenly called out from behind, "And don't forget Rampage, I am watching you," he laughed, "Resistance is futile."

His sickening laughter followed Rampage all the way to the base's exit.

Primus save him.

  


*******************

  


Why was he bothering with these two? Rampage was out there, somewhere, and by wasting his time playing cards, Depth Charge may have possibly missing an important opportunity to destroy the repulsive creature. He stayed, however, for whatever reason his mind came up with, and he played cards.

"Hey, fishsticks, you gonna lay down ya cards, or are ya gonna stare at 'em all day?"

"Do you ever shut up, rodent, or is it something we're doomed to hear forever? All you want to do is cheat, so shut up. Some of us actually have the ability to think before we lay down."

"Trust me, Legs, I'm sure ya got plenty of experience doin' dat for th' both of us."

"What?! You son of a-"

Rolling his optics and snorting at the heated argument between Blackarachnia and Rattrap--which was one of many that had branched from the start of the game and was probably bound to end up in a physical display of power--wondering how anyone could care enough to bicker as such. Come to think of it, how did the three of them get to playing a card game in the first place? He could at least tolerate Blackarachnia, being that she was one of the few Maximals--well, 'bots who allied themselves with the Maximals, loathe as she was to admit liking any of them--who didn't sicken him with Primus-ordained morals and irritating speeches like that commander of theirs. Also, he was pretty sure she tolerated him in return (or maybe she just found the presence of a, well, jerk such as himself a reassuring sight during her slow transition from Predacon soldier to Maximal ally). She didn't mind defying orders or turning a blind eye towards his actions, either. More points for the widow.

And, he grinned at the thought, she had one of best profane vocabularies he'd ever heard. By the Pit, she could probably teach him a thing or two about curses.

Rattrap, on the other hand...From the argument being fought now, he doubted the she-spider liked the pesky rodent any more then he. That wasn't saying much, considering that a disappointing day for the manta ray involved failing to find Rampage and/or cause damage and returning to base only to find the rat still alive and kicking, which meant he'd had quite a few unsatisfactory days since he'd arrived on Earth.

Depth Charge glanced over to where the argument was heating up, preparing to go physical. Slag, he must have been **really** bored to deal with this all morning.

Suddenly, his private alarm--that hidden scouting gear he loved so dearly for it singled out Rampage's signal--went off. Loudly.

Blackarachnia stopped to look up from where she was about to attack Rattrap to see what was going on. She took it all in for a moment, from the excited anger in his expression to the beeping alarm, and said simply, "Leaving so soon?"

He nodded.

The widow shrugged. "Good luck," and she went back to Rattrap.

Giving an acknowledgement of a "thank you," he turned to leave, only to whirl around as a strangled cry reached his ears.

Claw wrapped tightly around his neck, the female now had Rattrap in a choking position. He glanced over her for a moment before replying, "Twist your grip a little, it'll get the job done faster."

Laughing, Blackarachnia nodded a goodbye, then did as Depth Charge instructed.

The instructor just shook his head. He didn't know how it had happened, and he sure as slag hadn't been out looking for friends, but somehow...Depth Charge had a feeling that he and Blackarachnia, perhaps, did more then just tolerate each other...

As for Rattrap, for all his wit and survival instincts, may not have actually gotten out of this one alive. That is, had he not the fortune to have Optimus walk by as he struggled. The commander hurried in as Depth Charge rushed out.

"Primus, what in the Pit is going on here?!"

The widow gasped, the rat gurgled, and the hunter's laughter floated down the hall.

Perhaps not so bad a game after all.

  


********************

  


He couldn't remember when the desire to cause death and suffering had burned so strongly in him before. Rampage was no stranger to the dangerous duo of rage and desire, but never before had his spark been so consumed by the want of taking it. He wanted to kill Megatron, plain and simple, wanted to rip out the spark--that life-force that blazed so strongly in his chest and allowed him to continue his near daily torture of Rampage--and sip slowly the delicious mech fluids that came from such a sacrifice. A prime dish of spark and transformer blood, how lusciously palatable.

With a mind so consumed by tormenting images of a transformer stew and a corpse dribbling mech fluids, the crab found it surprisingly difficult to maintain the speed set by Inferno in hopes of quickly pleasing his "Queen."

Taking what enjoyment he could in the humiliating appellation given to Megatron, the 'bot took a short break to snicker quietly at Megatron's situation. Unfortunately, sensitive ears did not go without hearing the soft snigger, and Inferno landed soundly upon hearing, even as his mind was a psychiatrist's nightmare, knowing that anything involving Rampage laughing either involved the Queen or something sadistically wrong. Rampage had issues, and being so familiar with the them, Inferno could recognize it.

"What makes you laugh, vile crab? Is it business with the Queen?"

To spite the irritating insect, Rampage increased his small laughter to outright chortling. He often dismissed the ant's foolish faith in Megatron as a result of his misguided programming due to the spiders' mistake--a very entertaining story as he'd found from Blackarachnia during one of the very few discussions that ever happened between them before she began her early fraternizing with Silverbolt, something he'd known long before Megatron and Optimus ever caught wind of it--but, at times, he had no idea where to set the blame. Even faulty circuits couldn't account for the abject, slavish way in which the fiery transformer bowed before Megatron's might so willingly. Therefore, Rampage had come to the notion that Inferno had probably been doomed from the start, long before the Beast Wars, as the crab now thought of him as one of Cybertron's failed, sadly pointless cases that were born without a will of their own, not to mention incredibly banal in their predictable ways. (A few transformers that Rampage knew would have said that Inferno was anything but prosaic, but after spending years in a state that most labeled as "psychotic," Rampage had found that there truly was a method to mayhem, a pattern to chaos, if one will, which he came to know as the Chaos Theory.)

But now was not a situation to bother with such an intricate idea such as the Chaos Theory, since there was nothing convoluted about Inferno pulling out his blaster and tuning a transmission to Megatron. Had the situation been a different one, a situation where his life wasn't in the hands of a maniac, Rampage would have killed the insect for snitching, but since the circumstances at hand were so dangerous, he simply stopped laughing, stood up, and hurried along, rushing Inferno behind him.

Slaggit, how he hated this lack of control.

But he persevered, if not for the sake of just having the thrill of metaphorically spitting on the Predacon's leaders face. He would survive, no matter how much it took, no matter how many he took down with him.

"Mutinous one, we are hitting an energon zone. Our communications will be down now and then, or so the Queen says. We are to contact her as soon as we reach the alien hive." 

Consumed by his desire to fulfill the Royalty's wishes, Inferno missed the grim, determined look that appeared on Rampage's face. _A pawn for a pawn,_ Rampage thought bluntly.

A grin spread across his features as the first stages of his plan fell into place. Let the games begin, indeed.

  


*********************

  


Depth Charge was nearly at the end of his wits when he finally was able to find Rampage's signature again. He'd been nearly frantic when the blip that was the murderous crab 'bot had suddenly disappeared somewhere in the Gamma sector, having thought that Rampage may have found some terrible way of cloaking his energy signal, which would **not** be a good thing at all if he'd done so. However, the hunter was still not at ease, for the signal was not a steady one. It fluctuated between a weak bleep and a strong, throbbing dot on his tracker.

But that wasn't what interested the manta ray. It was the sector in which they were in. Why would they be there? What could possibly be there that was of such value as to send a combination of Megatron's most loyal and most powerful warriors?

The large Maximal shook his head. Whatever the reason, he was sure to find out when he found Rampage. He had rumors from Blackarachnia--a darn good resource if any for those who wished to learn intimate details of what even the Maximals didn't want to tell--that a situation involving an alien force had taken place there. Something about a ship and someone named Bak, no, Vak...Vok? He couldn't remember; it had been too long since he'd heard the tale. Another factor was that he hadn't really cared, either.

Depth Charge simply sighed helplessly. He needed to pay more attention to Maximal issues, even if he disinclined to do so...

Ahead, Rampage and Inferno's signature burned strong, and the turquoise-colored 'bot sped up.

  
  
Bwahaha...I am ze grim reaper, bwahah-Oh wait, wrong person. :looks around. I'm not insane! Oh wait...I am.   
Send all comments or questions to [Pitten_5@hotmail.com][1] or, if you feel it's urgent, [ChaoticSerenity3@aol.com][2]. Have a psychotic afternoon! Bwahaha...   
[Part 2: Chaos Theory][3]

   [1]: mailto:Pitten_5@hotmail.com
   [2]: mailto:ChaoticSerenity3@aol.com
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/chaotic_realms/Providence-2.htm



	3. Part 2: Chaos Theory

_Author's Notes:_ Part 2 of Chao-chan's demented story. Hope it doesn't twist your mind to the point of where I am... Rampage and Inferno study the ruins, Depth Charge sweeps in, and all find more then they bargained for.

**Warnings**: Violence, cursing, mature themes, etc.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I own no part of Transformers or of the characters Rampage, Depth Charge, Inferno, Megatron, the Vok, and all the other noted characters from the show. As for Chaos Theory, that was something I'm just going to borrow from Michael Crichton's "Jurassic Park," born of the character Ian Malcolm. However, my Chaos Theory is a bit different in some minor instances.

  


* * *

  


Providence Incarcerated 

Part 2: Chaos Theory

  


_The only paradox of life is our own desire to destroy it..._

  


Optimus was tired, and not just in the sense of rejuvenation of body functions. He was tired of the fighting, the attitude of his crew, the utter complexity of the Beast Wars. One moment, his crew was fraternizing, next minute Megatron was exploiting something else to up his advantage in the Beast Wars.

For Primus sakes, how much longer must they fight? He had been a field scientist, not a war veteran like Rattrap or a technical analyst like Rhinox. All he had was a knack for commanding and an optimistic attitude, but even those sometimes failed him. In fact, it was coming to the point where Optimus Primal--or Optimal Optimus as Megatron and others now referred to him as such since his hybrid Autobot metamorphosis--was beginning to lost the one thing that had kept them alive: hope.

Where was the justice in all of this? No where in the read outs for their exploration did the objective "save the universe as we know it" come up.

"We never ask for these things to happen, you know."

Sighing wistfully, Optimus turned to his old companion, a sad smile on his face as he faced the green and brown Maximal who'd made the comment. Rhinox...What would they do without him? Sometimes, Optimus just did not know the answer.

Not bothering to hide the hopelessness in his voice, Optimus replied, "No, we don't, but sometimes I just wish..."

"...You could go back in time and just turn our ship around. Am I right?" Rhinox asked gently.

With a glimmer of homesickness reflecting in his optics, Optimus nodded, the sense of longing for peace once again crashing down around him. Primus, how he hated this. It was no way for a 'bot to live.

Moreover, the Beast Wars had changed him in ways he was impotent to prevent. Actually, adaptation was probably the more appropriate word for it. The acclimatization was necessary to survive the Beast Wars, yet he oft wondered the price he'd pay for such conversions if he ever returned to the robotic utopia he called home.

Cybertron, his home...How he longed for it and those who awaited his too-long delayed return. Those like the buoyant Nightwing with his unshakable determination to be the most jovial 'bot on the planet, Mech, the mechanical wiz of the quartet, and, finally, Xanthra, in all her dangerous beauty and intellect, who never let a man have the last word. Blackarachnia reminded him of Xanthra in some ways.

It sometimes shocked the world-weary commander to see how little those attached realized how lucky they were. At least they had someone to lean on when the world came crashing down.

"Rhinox," he inquired, lost as he was in the world of different outcomes, "Why us? Why not just the Predacons? Why not someone who had been prepared for this?"

A soft sigh sounded from the other Maximal, long and tired in its coming. "Why **not** us, Optimus? Even if we were never prepared for such an uptaking, I'd say we were doing a pretty slagging good job so far. We've changed the once doomed fate of our race, and in doing so, we've changed as well. For better or for worse, that's your decision, but it has happened whether we wanted it. Everything happens for a reason, and I believe with all my spark that's the entire reason for us being here."

"But all we've lost," Optimus replied desolately, "So many us have died already and not just in the physical realm."

"In death we are reborn, whether in form or mentality. Everything changes as we go along, you should know and accept that above all others, Optimus."

"I know, but-"

"There are no buts in destiny's game. There are only desires. Desires for different ending, desires for other another way, but, in the end, we'll still have followed the steps destiny handed us. Now, I know that you want to contradict what I'm saying, if only because you've seen the past changed, but when it was all over, the timeline was still as was? At times, Optimus, the only hands to carry us are those of providence. While you may disagree, I personally think destiny's quite good at her job." With his soliloquy at its end, Rhinox settled back to watch the commander's reaction.

The said was sitting back, mind elsewhere in a realm of silent contemplation. He sat with his enormous hands folded into a large clasp, his head bowed, optics shut. A thickened silence pervaded the room with deadly accuracy, quieting those once outspoken, and Optimus Primal couldn't recall a time when the universe seemed so cold and yet so warm at the same instance. How was he supposed to deal with this? He was only one 'bot...

"They're depending on you to be strong," Rhinox said, nodding in the direction of the crew's quarters.

"I know," Optimus breathed, letters spilling haphazardly from his mouth to form words he hadn't spoken in awhile. Coming to terms with himself, when was the last time he really had known? They really did need him. Cheetor, Silverbolt, Rattrap, Blackarachnia, Depth Charge, Rhinox, and those gone--Dinobot, Airazor, Tigatron--depended on him to bring peace to their restless sparks. In a way, even Megatron and his minions depended on him to face those battles every day with the same ferocity and determination in his spark as the other.

Lifting his head, the Maximal mirrored the gentle smile Rhinox was always generous enough to share with a hopeless 'bot. "How did you get to be so wise, old friend?"

"Slowing down." He grinned. "A good fiber diet and having the patience to deal with Rattrap helps as well."

Chuckling softly, the Maximal nodded in understanding.

"Ready for another day of commanding, Commander?"

Nodding solemnly, despite his joviality, Optimus stood and reached for the printout that the main computer had spout out quite awhile ago. His smile faded, however, as he looked over the reading.

"What is it now, Optimus? Oh, and what had you riled earlier?"

"Depth Charge is on the move again...and there was a fight between our favorite Predacon ally and Rattrap."

"I was about to speak with you about that, Optimus. He left some time ago, but I've been tracking him the entire time. He seems to be moving towards the Gamma sector, but I'm unsure as to why, unless Rampage is there, which is probable. Even then, why would Rampage go there unless by Megatron's order, and if that's the case, why would Megatron want send troops down there?"

"Gamma sector..." Optimus pulled away for a second, rationalizing Megatron's latest move. There was something about it, something he was missing or had forgotten...

"Rhinox!" 

The scientist turned to face him. "Yes, Optimus?"

"Run an energy scan on the area and look up anything pertaining to that area in our files. Major battles, fights, energon traces, everything. While you're at it, contact Blackarachnia; she may know what's going on here. Plus, I think she needs to let off a little steam, neh?" he said, jerking in the direction of the repair chamber where Rattrap resided for now.

"I'll get in touch with Depth Charge. If Megatron is up to anything you'll need more then Blackarachnia to back you up," Rhinox answered in reply, turning to the main computer and beginning a ground scan of the questionable area.

"Megatron is always up to something," Optimus said grimly, "In fact, contact Silverbolt while you are at it. He'll probably be the easiest to reach since Cheetor's on scout patrol and Rattrap's in the chamber. Besides," he shrugged, "wherever Blackarachnia is, you're bound to find Silverbolt."

Rhinox quickly saluted and went to work as his friend left for take-off.

***********************

The landscape was nearly barren of organisms, mostly because that any life form that attempted to take hold in the dusty, mineral-lacking soil faced a grueling struggle for survival underneath the blazing sun. Rain was far and in between, and the average temperature was enough to intimidate any life form from pioneering.

Yet life flourished in here, as nature has it's ways of creating those evolutionary heroes who surpass all odds and succeed in going where no other has gone before, creating a breeding ground for others to tread upon safely. Albeit, life here was a constant struggle, and those who braved it were as strongly reinforced as their steel will to live. Visibly seen among the rocky terrain were the sharp-eyed hawk, scheming vultures, volatile Gila monsters, run-away rattlesnakes, and sneaky salamanders.

Once such lizard stealthily crept its way onto the rocky outlook that shadowed it's subterraneous home and noiselessly moved itself to a warm, sun-kissed spot. Lidded eyes half-closed as it heated itself on the sun-baked goodness of the morning rays, it slowly drifted into a state of partial slumber, though still aware of its surroundings as no creature could survive without doing so.

Sadly, in its silent exploits, the sandstone-colored salamander was unfortunate enough to come upon an enemy that it could neither fight nor run from.

The splat of the small creature upon his tank treads went unheeded by Rampage, his manner careless as his mind was occupied with the greatest scheme the transformer had thought up in ages. Energon waves were interrupting radio frequencies, both the Maximal and Predacon bases were miles from their destined location, and in Rampage's a grasp lay a ship and an object Megatron would die for. It was too perfect.

_"Chaos Theory, you have served me well, yet again,"_ Rampage thought with an inward smile. Ah yes, great were the ways and consequences of the Chaos Theory, but, at times, the ripened fruits were a treat to plunder. And who knew better how to manipulate disorder then its child?

A cruel smile adorned the otherwise somewhat grim visage that had taken root on the 'bot's features; they were about to enter the Gamma sector.

The theory Rampage spoke of so reverently was one he had pondered many a night while he had lain restricted in the unforgiving hands of the scientists and later among the ruins of Starbase Rugby. Basically, the Chaos Theory described a situation in which anything and everything will happen, yet all will fall together into one particular individual's hands. While one's reality may be a twisted kaleidoscope of terror and confusion, another's could finally be putting all the pieces back together.

And for once, Rampage was the puzzle's master.

Theory at hand, the plan Rampage now spoke of was one he had been mulling over since even before Megatron's rape of his soul. No, it had started long before that, back to those first, infantile days of his creation where he had taken his first steps into the blinding darkness that would forever bind him. It went back to days where he had lost the light he had once so cherished.

He wanted to get away. It was as simple as that. Rampage just wanted to leave it all behind, find a place where he could settle and be free, even if just for a few moments. Yes, the only desire of Cybertron's most frightening aberration was to free...and, perhaps, deal out some much deserved revenge against those who had betrayed him.

Means to follow through such a plan were in his grasp, as well. Herein lied the remains of a ship, and not just any ship, a craft that could possibly still be air worthy if certain parts were still intact.

A common mistake that Rampage's former and few hunters made were their underestimation of his intelligence. They looked at him as a brainless, heartless brute. In truth, the scientists who had created him had maximized his intelligence potential to rival his physical prowess. Any hunter who dared to think otherwise usually lost his or her--yes, Rampage's hunters had occasionally been female--life rather early in the chase, which is why Depth Charge was a rather special case. He had been on the hunt for years, yet the robot remained strong in his determination, bearing only relatively minor scars from their many scathing encounters.

However, the biggest advantage Rampage thought he had was the interpretation of the hunt itself. He saw it as a game, a sporting event that was to be enjoyed, and anything enjoyed is far easier to win.

But the hunt was not the main focus of today's exploits. Rather, it was an escape.

Rampage glanced over at the red-tinted transformer slightly ahead of him as they slowly began making up their way up a surprisingly steep hill. The bug showed not even the most remote of interests in his actions now; he was too busy looking for the alien "hive." (Not that Rampage wasn't eagerly awaiting their finding of it, but he wasn't doing it in mind of Megatron.)

Perfect. Simply perfect.

Craftily, he hid his joy beneath a plastered face of disinterest. Most other transformers would have foolishly thought Inferno incapable of deciphering a transformers very intentions by their expression, but, then again, Rampage was no ordinary transformer, and he had seen Inferno in action long enough to know that the insect was more then he was at first glance. The spiders had not completely rid him of normal, Cybertronian instincts...

"Mutinous one!"

With a glance, Rampage turned to attention sharply at the sound of Inferno's favorite epithet for him.

"Hurry, we are now entering the area of our desired coordinates."

As Inferno had said, as soon as they crested the hill in front of them, Gamma seemed to expand before their very eyes. Rampage was...amazed.

His voice a bedazzled melody, face losing its mask of indifference, he whispered, "It's beautiful..."

***********************

Blackarachnia was not in a good mood, Optimus decided as he watched her trudge behind him. Still sore from the earlier morning's scuffle with Rattrap and eventually scolding from her commander, the fem was not in the mood to be messed with.

_"Or have to walk through this Primus-forsaken desert,"_ she thought as she turned a meaningful glare in the direction of Optimus, knowing almost his exact thoughts from the expression on his face. The said 'bot pointedly ignored her heated glance and simply trudged on.

Blackarachnia pouted, an act of which she did not usually perform; she had far more important objectives waiting for her back on the ship than some slagging hike through the wilderness. There were schemes to work out, plans to undermine, missions to sabotage, and relationships to fix...

The widow sighed at the final one. There was a relationship she had to work out, alright. One would suppose that aligning one's self with a lover's friends would lead to a fulfilling relationship. Evidently, those rules did not apply to Blackarachnia's own "special someone."

Special someone. Heh.

Mentally, the spider snorted at the term. Whatever "special" qualities Silverbolt had were usually overshadowed by the strain the Beast Wars had on the rapport they shared with each other. By saying which did not necessarily mean they were falling apart, but there was a near obvious tension that radiated between the two as of late. Simple conversations distorted into heated arguements, a simple gesture of faint flirtation caused fueled fearful suspicion, and an overall diminishing of mutual trust had pervaded the aura of their interactions.

For all the contempt and danger that had surrounded their forbidden interest before, it almost seemed as though being apart had been far easier for them...she just hadn't realized how strenuous "moving in" would be.

Maybe she just didn't know what love was. There was no limit to the number of arguments Blackarachnia could recall in which Silverbolt had countered that he'd never said her transition would be easy. Perhaps he was right; perhaps she wasn't really prepared for such an enormous uptaking as building a life around him.

At the same time, Silverbolt's unfailing ability to grow paranoid over the smallest of friendly gestures didn't help the situation. It was amazing, in a sense, that something so trivial threatened to tear them apart after all each had suffered.

This time she sighed outwardly, an idiosyncrasy she had picked up since gaining the organic half of her being. Yet another effect of the Beast Wars.

What was the point in the continuing the journey when the road only became rockier? Blackarachnia did not know the answer.

Speaking of Maximals in rocky predicaments, Optimus halted as the landscape panned out before him in a display of disturbing, twisted imagery. Gnarled trees rose from the ground in a pathetic display of survival, their entwined, sun scorched branches reaching out with thin, knobby fingers towards the sky like a Sinner repenting before his God. Among the deep trenches that scarred the land, bones poked out from beneath the dusty, cracked soil, idle hands of death reaching to pull passerbys into the shadowy depths of their lonely hell. In the distance, a bird cried, it's call raucous and cold. Here, little thrived. What did faced a grueling struggle for even the most tedious of lives.

The here spoken of was sector Zagma, only one away from their destination: Gamma.

Had his robotic protocol been able to process such an action, Optimus would have shuddered. Things had changed so much from when they first landed on Earth. The planet, at that time, had been far more productive, it's lush jungles stretching farther than the straining optic could see, and the world turned to each day with shimmering eyes as morning dawned with the promise of yet another celestial birth.

That all changed, however, when Megatron and his crew crash-landed on the lively planet, dragging the Maximals down with him some many ill-recalled years ago. Suddenly the luster that had so appealed foreigners before seemed to dim, the bright awakenings now turned to with a dark eye. What had once been novel in its promise was now only a broken memory.

Earth had lost its innocence too early. Where primal man was to have paved the road for future awareness, the misplaced crew of two Cybertronians has stripped the path of its fine decor and trampled its once cherished path to bitter nothingness.

They had destroyed Earth.

_"Why is it the gentle innocence of Earth must suffer the consequence for our brutality?"_

As he gazed, Optimus remembered with vague nostalgia the words of his wise and once-companion Tigatron. The tiger had carried himself with a grace and sage-like nature that shamed his colleagues and their rash, aggressive, insensible ways. He was an idol, a golden god in the balanced rhythms of harmony and nature. He, Tigatron, one of only two Cybertronians who bothered to know or appreciate the sweet alfresco of a summer day, who spoke with both 'bot and bird, whose body seemed to meld between the illusion of flesh and cold reality of dull metal that was their being.

It was Tigatron who had attempted to bridge the gaps between their society and that of Earth's, and it was Tigatron who had suffered and, ultimately, died for that cause.

The memories, dolorific in essence, quietly seeped into the commander's processing core as his stare fell on a shadow in the near distance.

Presently, Optimus was shook from his reverie as the soft gravel that was Blackarachnia's voice intervened.

"And we are here why?"

Optimus shook his head dazedly, jogging his memories before answering. "We're here to find out exactly what Megatron's up to." He paused for a moment. "And to get Depth Charge."

Her tone lost its condescendence and took on one of mock amusement. "Oh, the usual?"

There was laughter to be had at that. Bittersweet, yet irresistible laughter.

Blackarachnia blinked for a moment at her commander's reaction before allowing herself a terse smile in response. She supposed the cycle of their battle was sardonically comical in its own fashion.

The giant robot before her turned with a slight of a smile, and answered, "Yes, I suppose it is the usual."

More acerbic laughter.

She gave him odd look, but probed no further. Whatever emotions had begot her commander's anomalous rejoinder were of no business to her, and in no way was there need for worry.

"So...where off to, again?"

The faint smile gently dissolved into a look of hard resolution as the hybrid's gaze fell on the distance. "Gamma. Rhinox tracked everyone's favorite failed experiment and pyromaniac to this sector. We're not quite sure what either Megatron or Rampage are planning, and whether or not Rampage's actions are indepedent or ordered, but with the presence of Inferno, I'm willing to assume the latter for safety's sake."

"Rampage? Inferno? And you expect _just_ the two of us to be able to take those two on?"

"Silverbolt's coming, and, when we catch up to him, Depth Charge," he answered absently.

"Depth Charge...and Silverbolt..." she muttered.

Optimus stole a glance at the widow, not missing the nearly imperceptible look of apprehension that flashed across her feature's at the fuzor's name. He closed his optics wearily for a moment. Now what was going on with those two?

Whatever it was, Blackarachnia wasn't about to divulge anything to him right now. She changed the subject as soon as she spoke again. "Gamma sector, eh? Now, what would Megatron want with that?"

"Who knows, but obviously there's something here that's piqued his interest quite a bit, else he wouldn't send his best."

The widow snorted. "His best. Mweh. Well, unless Megatron's just collecting scrap metal for repairs or something equally dull, I doubt he'll find anything of use down there. I mean, a crashed ship isn't much use when--"

"What did you say?"

Startled and somewhat annoyed at being interrupted, Blackarachnia looked up. "What?"

"What do you mean by a crashed ship?" he pursued, ignoring the glare she gave him.

She blinked. "You mean you don't recognize this place?"

Silence.

An exasperated sigh hit the air. "You are the commander, right?" She rolled her optics. "If you haven't guessed by now--which, obviously, you haven't--this is where that alien ship went down. Remember? Megatron, disks, big explosions?"

A flash of recognition flashed across his face. "The Hunter? You mean-"

"Yes, Optimus, that one," Blackarachnia said, cutting him off, her words slow as if speaking with a slightly handicapped child.

Well, at least that's the impression Optimus received as he listened to widow expound on the topic. Apparently, not only had he forgotten what happened here, but he was also irresponsible for doing so, and he needed to pay more attention to events.

Again, just his interpretation.

As Blackarachnia ended her monologue, Optimus turned once again to the blackened distance with a far more serious look of apprehension. Sure it was just a wreck, but if Megatron were to find anything of value or significance--and if he managed how to work that significant piece of equipment--it might spell trouble for the Maximals.

Optimus paused again, sighing, as he gathered his thoughts. The Beast Wars seemed to only grow complex as they fought on. Exactly what, now, did the Fates have in store for the wary fights?

Presently, Optimus turned back to Blackarachnia and said softly, "Exactly what could be taking Silverbolt so long?"

******************

Scattered among the jagged ruts that jutted out from beneath a torn and broken landscape--most likely a result of tectonic activity--lay an oasis. An oasis of all things! A paradise within hell.

However, this seventh heaven was not perfect. Long scars marred the otherwise perfect jungle, large stretches torn through the bush. There were places where canyon walls formerly inhabited by lush, vibrant life forms were now rocky and barren like the dessert they had passed through only hours earlier.

This meant little to Rampage as his sensors incorporated the entirety of their surroundings, his mind a garbled mess of incoherent thoughts and speechless admiration. With such a fitting atmosphere for the moment of his freedom, it was all just too perfect for the crab to believe.

The tranquility was stunning in appeal, despite the enormous pieces of wreckage scattered throughout. Had it not been so vitally important to his ultimate success, evidence of Rampage's disgust at the twisted metal would be more apparent.

But he tolerated it. For now, anyhow. There was work to be done.

The serenity of the scene was broken by a hoarse command by Inferno to make way to the wreckage and begin searching for his Queen's much needed object. Immediately, the magical feeling seemed to dehydrate like rain water in the heat of the desert sun.

_"Slagging insect,"_ thought Rampage thought with more than slight annoyance, _"Always ruining the moment."_

Throwing the ant a wary glance as he passed him by, Rampage made his way down to the ruins. For now, he wanted to get as far away as he could from Inferno.

****************

The severe glance Optimus gave Silverbolt when he finally arrived was enough to make the fuzor step back before he saluted and stated his said arrival.

This angry look, however, faded away quickly. Optimus Primal was a commander to be respected, not feared. With a gentler tone, he told the hybrid robot to remain at ease for a few minutes, to rest himself, and, perhaps, quell Blackarachnia's temper.

The first part succeeded in its goal, the latter not so well. Optimus did **not** miss the look of unsettlement that passed through Blackarachnia's features as Silverbolt passed her. Nor did he miss the silence that pervaded the air between them.

But the commander did not entertain these thoughts anymore. Whatever was between them was their business and no concern of his own. Now what was on his agenda was getting to that ship before Rampage and Inferno succeeded in whatever goal they had in mind. Optimus had a very ominous feeling as to what the truth of their plans really were, particularly with Rampage.

Protoform X was not a robot to be trusted.

A faint smile touched his lips as he imagined Rattrap's high-pitched voice saying "We're all gonna die" at content of his own thoughts. So predictable was the rodent, and yet so mysterious and intriguing. Rattrap was a good friend.

But Rattrap was not here, so Optimus would have to depend on the expertise of Blackarachnia and Silverbolt's backup to aid him at this time.

With a flick of his hand, he nodded at his two subordinates before jumping and launching into the air towards Gamma, followed closely by his companions.

* * *

They had been here how long? Rampage grumbled convincingly about how he hated Megatron, this job, and life under Predacon command in general as he cleared away large pieces of scrap from around the ship, looking for Megatron's little treasure.

Inferno conveniently ignored him.

And that was quite alright with Rampage. The last thing he needed was the insect suspecting what Rampage was up to. Inferno was no completely incompetent fool--well, the part about not being completely incompetent was true--and Rampage was not about to bring about any more attention to his operation then needed. Besides, the pyromaniac needed to be distracted before Rampage attacked.

So the crab persevered another hour of the bug's insane mumblings, boredom creeping up as he waited and waited. (Although, he noted that some of the more interesting ones involving Megatron, bubble baths, and rubber duckies would make good blackmail later on.)

Skillfully, Rampage played the part of his usual self, cursing Megatron and his life. Occasionally, he would blast any pathetic life form that accidentally came into his view, but otherwise, Rampage actually _worked._

It wasn't until late in the second hour of their search that Inferno made his mistake relaxed, letting down his guard for only a few seconds.

It was then that Rampage attacked.

* * *

Wow, this chapter took entirely too long to get out, and Chao-chan apologizes for that. :hands out chocolate: Here, have some to make you feel better. Bye bye for now!

Next chapter: **Echo of the Past**-Upon entering the forbidden ship, Rampage stumbles upon far more than what he expected...though in a way, it's exactly what he's dreamed of.


	4. Part 3: Echo of the Past

_Author's Notes:_ As I write this story, I'm beginning to notice that Rampage is becoming another "tortured soul" character. That worries me. The last thing I need is a cliché fic fourth chapter in. If it starts to get unoriginal, would someone please tell me? I don't really want to end up with a ten chapter story and then have someone critique it as repetitive and uncreative, okay?

Also, I think it's about time I broke down some of the plot and setting in this fic before I go any further:

Other than the few details I'm about to mention, this story follows the canon timeline rather closely. Very little has changed in the way of events, particularly in season three. It just happens to take place during all those times we didn't view during the episodes. After all, we miss months, possibly years between stories. They [the writers] just chose to pull out the "juicy bits" for us to watch. ^_^ In other words, don't get your knickers in a twist: everything's almost completely in order. Even the final chapters of this fic will remain within canon events.

These first few chapters take place a few months before Feral Scream, so the reason why Rampage and Inferno are skulking around the ruins of the Hunter is because they're looking for what will become the Transmetal 2 driver. It's always fairly ruffled me that the writers never explained where in the Pit that thing came from, so I've devised an idea of my own. Secondly, it's actually been a very long time since I've seen the third season episodes or even for that matter the episodes that contain the conflict with the Hunter. In other words, my memory's rusty, so I'm going to take a few liberties here and there. For one, the Hunter was not completely destroyed in this story. A great deal of it survived, it just...blew up. -_-;;

As for the Feral Scream episodes, I'm probably going to mess up all sorts of canon with that one. I was never a big Cheetor fan in the first place, so I never really paid much attention to the dialogue and events. I have the basic idea of what happened, but otherwise, forget it. Oh, and I like Silverbolt and Blackarachnia a great deal, so don't worry, they aren't going to split up. *shudders at the idea of Cheetor/Blackarachnia fic* They're just having temporary...relationship dysfunctions. (Which is typical when you're a Romeo and Juliet romance gone robotic...and one of you is an overbearing wench from the "evil" side.)

Oh, but happy stuff is coming next chapter! I finally get to bring back somebody from Ram-chan's past! ^_^ Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Torturing Rampage is so much fun!!!!!

_**Interlude**:_   
Chao-chan: Writing this story is a real joy, you know! Torturing robots seems to be my specialty as of late.   
Rampage: *insulted* No it is not.   
Chao-chan: *raises eyebrow* You're disagreeing?   
Rampage: Well...*considers words* As long as it isn't me, then yeah, it's fun. I just don't understand why you had to choose me for your little insane story.   
Chao-chan: Sorry, but it's kinda easy, ya know? An experiment gone wrong who enjoys torturing people? It's perfect story fodder! Plus, there had to be more to you than meets the eye. ^_~   
Rampage: That was a bad pun.   
Chao-chan: Stop back talking or else I'll do worse to you! And just who are you to question my sanity?! Even if I just did see the psychiatrist yesterday...   
Rampage: What's worse than this?   
Chao-chan: Do the words Nightscream and "new character" mean anything to you?   
Rampage: *look of horror* Oh Primus...no...Oh please, no, anything but that! *swallows* Do whatever you want my beautiful, wonderful, and amazing author queen! (*gag*)   
Chao-chan: *smirks and fluffs, um, metal antennae* I knew you'd come around...

**Warnings:** Transformer violence and cursing.

**Archive:** Just ask. ^_^

Obligatory Disclaimer: No, I don't own Beast Wars. ;-; I assure you, though, that if I had, Skir would never have touched Beast Wars...even if I did like some his stuff near the end.   
  
Rampage: Amen. I'm actually starting to like you. Maybe *I'll* like some of your story towards the end, too.   
Chao-chan: Don't get your hopes up.

* * *

Providence Incarcerated

Chapter 3: Echo of the Past

Rampage dusted his claws as he entered the ship, removing the residue left over from his activities from a few minutes previous. His encounter with Inferno had been a far messier ordeal than he had expect, and though Rampage had eventually won the duel of powers, the ant's wet mech fluid and axel grease stained his hands, his armor, his body.

He did not want this moment to be tainted.

There was only silence to be heard by the listening ear as he made his way through the ship's ruins. In many places he was forced to use brute force to remove some of the heavy objects obstructing his path, many of the halls having either imploded or exploded during the crash. Jagged shrapnel scratched the metal of his outer armor, the hull literally torn to pieces by the force of the crash. However, the crab refused to make his way through the ship in any less precautious fashion and risk more damage. The craft had sustained significant harm during the battle, and he did not want to cause any further injury to the ship and ruin his chance at escape.

He struggled through the rubble, making pathways where pathways didn't exist, straining to reach the point of his desire. Time was not on his side; Megatron was no fool, and after a few hours without communication, his suspicious were bound to be aroused. And then the pain would come. The terrible, wrenching torment of having his own soul violated and the shame that accompanied it afterwards.

Rampage shuddered; he had to hurry.

**************

What they found remaining of Inferno was a mess of wires, metal, and mech fluid that was not even enough in collection to build a toaster. (Well, maybe a small, crude toaster if Blackarachnia and Rattrap teamed up their skills, but everyone knew just how soon that was going to happen.) Exactly what occurred could not be accurately discerned, but it was quite obvious that they were in a far more dangerous situation than before: Inferno was down, which meant Rampage was temporarily free of Megatron's control and on his own.

Optimus shuddered involuntarily. The past had returned to haunt him once again. The usually shameless commander was hit with the full impact of his past deeds as he gazed upon the broken form of Inferno. How many others would suffer because of Rampage's sadism and power? He averted his optics slightly from the gaze of his comrades, his guilt temporarily overwhelming. His hand in X's creation had become a mark on his soul.

After no comforting reception came from his leader, Silverbolt turned back to the corpse before them. He hid a shiver as he looked on; the memories of his first encounter with the terrifying protoform had not been forgotten and for good reason. Rampage was not a robot to be taken lightly. The creature was the culmination of all things wrong and evil. There was no reason for his malevolent ways other than the fact that he was a sickening, sadistic robot with a mind that no sane transformer could possibly understand. Well, at least most of the time we can't understand him, Silverbolt reflected, his mind sorrowfully recalling the days of Transmutate and the struggle of factions that had led to his demise.

Sometimes one's greatest enemy was one's self.

Still, there was no real excuse for his behavior. Yes, he had been an experiment, but what right did that give the frightening transformer to ruin the lives of others and cause of much suffering? What could possibly drive a transformer to such brutality? Oh, if only Silverbolt knew...

Through their inspection of the scene, Optimus had said little. He was too lost in his commander's thoughts, formulating, calculating Rampage's motives and his next move. What were the crab's intentions? By now, everyone in the Beast Wars was aware of the power Megatron held over Rampage, so why would Protoform X dare to attempt such a dangerous feat? Optimus did not know the answer, and deep down, he was sure he wanted to know either.

He decided that they needed to find Rampage. Quickly.

**************

Megatron tapped his fingers irritably against the side of his chair, impatiently anticipating Inferno's now very late update. The bug had been given the order to contact him every hour, updating him on their whereabouts, the ship, and, most importantly, Rampage's behavior; it was now more than two hours since their signal had disappeared.

Fingers closed possessively around the spark container resting on the arm of his chair. If, in fact, Rampage had pulled anything, he would soon regret it when Megatron finally decided to take action.

A tremor of ill pleasure ran through the Transmetal's infrastructure, and his grip on the spark holder tightened slightly. Oh, how Rampage would regret it if he did dare to trespass upon hunting grounds Megatron had already claimed for himself.

He would have the Transmetal technology, even if it meant ending Rampage's life.

Megatron had first witnessed the glory of the alien technology when he took control of the battleship _Hunter_. The power had been...exhilarating, magnificent. To be in such a position of control, such raw omnipotence at his fingertips...Megatron sighed in pleasure. Soon Maximals and Predacons alike would once again tremble at the sound of Megatron slipping from quivering lips.

And as for that traitor Dinobot...he would soon learn his own lesson as well. Nobody betrayed Megatron's trust. Nobody.

Which is why Rampage would suffer if Inferno's did not contact Megatron within the next slagging hour! Angrily, Megatron hurled one of the various computers surrounding him down the hall...only to regret it as Waspinator's pitiful cry of agony echoed through the halls. The poor insect had once again become a victim of his commander's rage--whether intentional or not. Frowning, Megatron quietly contacted Quickstrike to gather the pieces of bug scattered around the halls and throw them into the repair chamber. Upon Quickstrike's response as to exactly how large a job that would be, Megatron almost felt apologetic for what had happened.

Almost.

His fingers carried the rhythm across his chair arm once more, and tilting his head to the side, he rested it on an open palm, the soft clicking sound of metal against metal resounding through the nearly empty chambers. Waspinator's current dilemma was the result of only a minute amount of Megatron's rage seeping through the calm front of control. In reality, the commander was incensed at the idea that Rampage could have betrayed him. The idea was ludicrous but possible; after all, the crab was capable of many ill things. But still, if he dared betray Megatron...The tyrant smiled. Oh, would he suffer. As terribly as those who had betrayed Megatron before had.

As if to emphasize his point to the heavens, Megatron grasped the spark container, stroking the metal work gently before carefully placing it on the edge of his chair and slamming one gigantic hand upon it.

And as the electricity spouted from the container, sparks flying from the case as the metal squealed in agony, Megatron laughed.

**************

In a realm that no mortal beings know of nor can pass, in a place where purgatory and heaven and hell were all the same, where destiny and decision collided fiercely as they battled for dominance, two not-voices broke the silence.

_"Is it time yet?"_

_"Yes, the time has come."_

_"To save him?"_

_"That is only something he can do himself. You are simply going to lead him on the journey..."_

In the realm in which no mortal beings may pass, a place where both destiny and decision were as one, the voices halted, and all was silent once more.

**************

He clutched the edge of the door with trembling digits, his body shaking with excitement. Impossible for a robot, his processor reminded him, but Rampage ignored reason. After all, what being would not waver before liberation and glory? Slowly, he placed on foot past the crowded doorway, easing in. The clink of metal against metal echoed loudly through his ears, reverberating throughout the chamber until it reached a low octave whistle.

Another step, and the melody broke off.

Gazing around, Rampage absorbed into his memory chips every piece of his surroundings that he could. From the broken and fragmented computer screens to the cracked and damaged walls, he shaped every part of his destiny. This was perfection. This ruined junk heap of a ship was paradise and everything else of which Rampage dreamed. Megatron would have called it pathetic, but then Rampage had never really respected anything about the man other than his amazing ability to keep all of his warriors in check. (Well, everyone except **him** of course.)

Shaking his mind of such thoughts, Rampage made his way to what he assumed was the main council and ran his hands over the smooth exterior. Perhaps, if he could use his past knowledge of technical repair, he could get this ship to work. Then, perhaps, he could finally put his plan into action.

Rampage had seen the look on Megatron's face when he spoke of the alien technology. There had been a gleam there, an excited sparkle the likes of which he had only seen once before. Though he hardly wanted to recall that visage now, he remembered quite clearly exactly what it meant.

Power.

Or lust for power. Whatever. It was all the same. How many men had taken refuge within the labs of Cybertron's science universities in hopes of finding meaning and purpose in their lives by destroying his? How few realized that in their lust to be something grander than the other, they only made themselves weaker?

Rampage knew weakness, and he hated it. Too many times in his life had he faced and dealt with the state to carry any fondness for it. Weakness had allowed the scientists of Cybertron create and destroy him. Weakness had allowed Depth Charge to follow him all these years. Weakness had allowed Megatron to rip half his spark from his being, leaving him an empty, hollow shell of his former being that constantly reminded him that he was only half a man.

He was weak now.

No longer.

His prime concern for the ship wasn't quite that it was air worthy--though that would be quite a bonus--since even if he managed to escape Earth, Megatron could still incapacitate him. What he wanted to know was whether or not the shields were working.

The basic concept was to fit himself into a situation where he held just as much power as Megatron did--however temporary that advantage may be--and perhaps "bargain" with the transformer. One piece of alien technology for one spliced spark.

It seemed like a fair deal to Rampage.

With these thoughts in mind, Rampage went to work. First he fiddled with the controls, testing to see if any of them worked. While this was the not the most lucrative approach, it was well worth trying before he began tearing into the control systems. Rampage may have had brutal tactics, but he was no idiot. After that route failed, he began digging into the computer, bringing to bear all former knowledge he had gained and had been programmed with at his existence on computer repair and control. 

Two grueling hours passed without any productivity for him to show. He had done everything to his knowledge, had twisted and reconnected and then connected wires, had torn out bits of obtrusive metal, had melded formerly broken edges together once more, had basically done everything a Transformer could do to fix the ship.

And now he had nothing.

Rage flooded Rampage's being. He was never one particularly for patience, and this mission alone had stretched what little he had to a thin strand that was ready to snap. Primus have mercy on the 'bot who dared to disturb him in such a rage.

And Primus have mercy on his soul.

Along with the anger came the despair; he was trapped. Forever. The cut that Megatron had made with that energon knife years ago had cut further than his spark, further than his spirit and life force.

It had shattered his destiny.

Damn him.

Dropping to a sitting position, Rampage slowly dropped his head into his hands. Where was the justice in it all? Where was his second chance at life? Robots with scars deeper than his, with sins deadlier than his had found new lives, so why couldn't he? Had he damned himself that day the scientists loosed him on Starbase Rugby? Or had he already been damned when they first brought him to life?

It wasn't fair.

Leaning back against the computer, Rampage paused for a moment, then slammed his fist into the hard metal of the computer side. Slag it all! What worse destiny could the immortals bestow upon him? Trapped, caged, imprisoned by one who had no celestial right to hold such enormous power in his hands. Rampage had been made as the Creator of Fates, the dark hand that painted the large picture on the white canvas of life.

So why was it that Megatron held all the puzzle pieces now? How did he do it, tear him asunder, beat him down until he was weak and vulnerable, without a claw raised or a missile launched in defense?

It wasn't fair!

Rage overwhelming his being, Rampage kicked the computer hard, slamming his fists in the machinery over and over again, not wanting any longer to gaze into the hopeless abyss that had once been his greatest chance at escaping the pain. He raged and screamed and cursed and wailed, damning the scientists for bringing him into this miserable existence and Primus for allowing such sins to go unanswered.

If only he knew how close salvation truly was.

The end of his tantrum came as he lifted his claws high above his head, only to fall back as dark energy coursed through his entire being, rendering his helpless and paralyzed. He screamed in pain, grasping his chest plate with trembling arms, desperately trying to rid himself of the spark that brought him to this agony.

Never before had he suffered as he did now. There was only one reason why Megatron would ever dare harm his most powerful weapon in any way.

"Megatron," he hissed between, "...he knows..." He stretched one claw into the brilliant, sparkling white of the room. Electricity shot out around him, consuming his body in its crackling energy, scorching his armor and illuminating everything. Above his head, the energies began to swirl into one great mass, like a funnel cloud stretching down to reach him. He didn't even see it until it reached out to claim him, its essence wrapping around him and gripping Rampage like a vice. 

"No!" he cried out in horror. He gasped as the mists began to swirl into a being. "What...what are you?"

_I'm here to release you from the pain._

"No-what!"

Darkness. All around him. Consuming the light. Consuming _him_. 

A deeper voice behind the femenine one. _Come with us...come now._

An answer from the light. _No, it's not his time!_ And then a feeling of ascension as the light descended and dived into him. 

The electricity rained down from the ceiling encasing his body in a white shell of energy, lifting his form off the ground as he was enclosed in black whiteness. A whirlwind of energy and cloud encased the room, shielding it from any intruders.

The last words Rampage spoke before everything faded to darkness was, "Primus...save me..."

_Forgive me, Rampage..._

**************

Blackarachnia screamed as she was thrown back into Silverbolt, who grabbed her securely around the waist in response, pulling her to him as both hurtled back from the force of the explosion. His wings made a rather firm indention on the wall as they struck solid matter, imprinting his shape on the metal's face. Both ducked shrapnel came flying at them, only to mentally sigh in relief as the huge shadow that was Optimal Optimus fell over them, and the commander's form came to shelter them from the hail of metal and electricity.

Eventually, the bombardment ceased, but the white light that had exploded into their vision remained burning brightly ahead of them. It had appeared suddenly and without warning, moments before Optimus had been able to knock down the door of the room in which they had sensed Rampage's energy signature. So what had happened?

Optimus couldn't explain it, nor could he explain exactly what happened next as the white light bulged, sending out arcs of brilliant electricity that pressed them further into the recesses of the dark hallway through which they had entered.

_You are not wanted here._

The words flashed through his mind like lightening through the grey and unforgiving sky. 

_You can do no further good._

Optimus straightened abruptly, his sensors screaming in agony as they were bombarded with thousands of electrical shots. Amidst of the haze of it hall, he managed one sound, one question, _Why?_

_Because there is a soul at stake, and I will not let you destroy him again._

A soul? Optimus' circuits sparked in protest, and slowly his form began to slide backwards, much to the horror of Blackarachnia and Silverbolt. Optimus was several times their size; if he were to lose his grip, then both smaller transformers could end up with serious injury. Silverbolt bravely moved the one he loved behind him. 

Come hell or high heaven, he would protect her no matter the cost.

And hell did come, as waves upon waves of subatomic particles bombarded their sensitive, energon-driven bodies, leaking in through cracks and crevices to attack at the very core. Optimus trembled, then collapsed to one knee, skidding backwards rapidly. Sparks flew past him as he dug elephantine fingers into the floor to catch himself at the last moment.

"What the slag is going on here?" 

"We have...to get out of here," Optimus yelled over chaos of it all, though his voice was nearly lost between the squeal of metal against metal. "Somebody doesn't want us here!"

"No really," snapped Blackarachnia, "What gave you that idea?"

He didn't even bother to react to her anger as his jets appeared at his sides. "We have to get out of here, now!" As if to punctuate his words, an explosion rocked the ship. 

Optics widening, the two smaller transformers executed his command soundly, jumping on his wings and riding out as the walls began to collapse around them...

*********************

Rampage was flying, floating, free-falling through the air with nothing but darkness to guide him. His sensors couldn't pick up everything in the pitch black night of the illusion he was trapped in, nor could they sense any other being that could possibly explain the voice he had heard shortly before tumbling into this abyss.

He couldn't think, couldn't act, couldn't see. He was trapped, vulernerable and alone, tossed into the sea of abandonment.

One word, one lucid thought, in formation. "Help me..." 

_As you wish..._

Rampage jerked, startled, but his fear was only surpassed by his surprise as he suddenly came to a slow, painless stop. His claws clicked as they tapped metal. For a moment he stood, in shock at his surroundings. There was still darkness all around him, but at least there was solid ground beneath his feet.

At least he thought.

Warily eyeing his surroundings, Rampage hunkered down on his heels and touched the ground. Indeed it was solid, but that didn't meant it couldn't fade away anytime soon. For all he knew, it could all be an illusion. The thought came to bear without his realization. "Where am I?"

To his shock, his thought not only echoed in his mind, but all around him.

"What the..." A thousand voices echoed his confusion. Taken aback, he whispered softly, hoping it would not repeat, "Where am I?"

But even that magnified itself many times over, growing louder with every audible whispering. Rampage paused, then pulled his body together, as if struck by an unseen force. Had he perchance died in his longstanding struggle for salvation? Was the road of infinity finally gone from his feet? Was this...the end?

_Unfortunately, not by a long shot,_ answered a different voice. Startled, Rampage stumbled backwards. That voice, he knew for most certain, was not at all his own, its tones soothing and femenine. Though he fought the unspeakable urge it gave him to relax, remaining wary and on-guard. But a part of him submitted to the serenity, silencing his anxiety. The voice reminded him of a time and place and person that years had forgotten, a figure from the past that he had buried. The only one who had ever been able to quell the storm within him.

It quelled his storm...No! He would no longer submit! He had made the promise to never willfully bow to another's power again--even though fate had _forced_ him to recognize another's superiority. Those years of servitude had been left behind when he tore the first spark from another's body and revelled in their suffering.

Furiosly, he screamed, mindless of the reverberations around him, "Who are you? What game do you play with me? I will not be your toy!" Upon hearing no reply, he demanded, "Answer me!"

_Your wish is my command._

Instantly, the backdrop of darkness faded away, and Rampage found himself gazing at a mass of tangled wires, electrical impulses, and twisted metal. "What...what in the slag is this?" He looked around with wide optics; never in his years had he come upon such a sight. A sudden light burst brilliantly behind him, and Rampage whirled around in surprise, expecting an attack, only to drop his jaw in shock as he recognized what it was.

It was a spark, or, at least, in some semblance a remarkable reproduction of one. But this was no normal core of a transformer, for it lacked no size in ratio to its brilliance, and large and round and spherical, it towered over Rampage, covering him in blinding white light, encompassing the vast expanse of his vision.

"What..." he began, only to trail off as he realized part of his arm was protruding through a jagged piece of metal. He pulled it out, expecting friction, the feel of metal tearing metal, and the sounds that followed in accordance. There was none of that, however, and Rampage watched in shock as his form passed through the wall. Bringing his claws before him for inspection, he blinked as they passed right through one another.

Fear clutched his spark, or what was left of it in this hollow form. Had Megatron finally pushed beyond Rampage's limits? Had he...killed the transformer without ever giving him a chance at revenge?

"Not fair," he said suddenly, "It's not fair!" The last sentence came as a choked scream, and it echoed countless times back to him, until all his mind could process was the injustice of fate. "I can't die now, not when I'm so close! It's not fair!"

_You're right. It isn't fair._

He gasped as the voice descended from above. Rampage looked around frantically. "What--What--Who's thre?! Who are you?"

_A visitor from the other side. One who has come to guide you._

"So I am dead," he answered bitterly, "And I suppose you're here to take me to the Pit?"

_No, not dead. Not physically anyhow, though I fear your spark died years ago. No, I'm not here to bring you before Primus' judgement; I'm here to see to it that you pass it when it is your time._

"What the slag are you talking about?" Rampage demanded, growing suddenly bolder. He did **not** need to be saved by anyone. Damned he was from the moment of his birth, and damned would he be to his death. There was no desire within him for salvation, and even if there was, there were no sacred waters pure enough to purge his hands of the mech fluid he had shed.

So to here this disembodied voice speak of possiblities beyond possibility...it filled him with rage. And grief.

_Do not be so quick to anger, my dear. In no way did I say I was your salvation--a guide only shows you the path, but you are the one who must choose to follow._

Rampage snorted incredulously. "Even if there was truth to that pile of rubbish you call reason, I don't want or need your help." He looked around him. "So if I'm not dead, how the slag do I get out of here?"

The voice seemed to sigh. _That is only something you know. I cannot tell you that._

Rampage exploded. "What in the Pit do you mean I know how leave?! I don't even know how I got here!" Seething with fury, he stomped one transluscent foot against the metal beneath him. "I demand that you let me out of here now?"

Finally, the voice grew angry. _I have told you already that it is not I who holds the key to your escape. I am here as a guide, to perhaps grant you the deepest wishes of your heart. You, a constant prisoner a fate, do you actually reject the road to freedom bestowed upon you?_

"Freedom?" The word sounded foreign and hollow to him as he repeated it, his anger slowly diminishing and draining away at his unseen companion's word. He had never known of freedom, of life outside incarceration, constantly held within prisons created by others and even his own mind.

But to know freedom...to taste of it if only for a few seconds...The voice now captivated Rampage's senses. Thickly, he asked, "What do you want?"

_As I've said before, I'm only here to help you. Whether you or not you understand why I'm doing this is a rather null factor, but what is important is that I need your trust. Nothing can be done here without your consent._

"Nothing?" Rampage echoed, "How so? I'm not even a solid form in this realm." He passed an arm through a metal wall for emphasis. "How is my power of will anything compared to yours?"

_That's because we are not in the otherworldly realm as you believe we are. We are simply inside you. The answer to your question is simple: When I crossed over from the other side--the place where all good sparks eventually go--I meant you no harm, but the sheer amount of energy released when I, a spark among millions who have been accepted into Primus' arms, was released into the mortal world overwhelmed your circuits, and indeed, as he does to all his children, Primus called your spark to join my own among the stars. To put it simply, yes, you nearly did die. That deeper voice you may have heard amidst the cries of my own would be those of the great father of transformers himself._

But it wasn't your time yet. And I knew that, otherwise I wouldn't have been sent here in the first place. However, the only way I was able to keep you from passing through the transitional barrier between this world and next was to drag your spark conscience deeper into your form. I had to shut down your central processor and let your body run on spark energy alone. Unfortunately, this means that your conscious mind descended into what is called spark awareness.

_Basically, you are what the human kinds used to call a spirit. The part of you that makes you, the innermost bearing of your spark, the pieces of you that that no one can take away no matter how often they try to destroy you, that descend into eternity even after mortal bonds are broken._

Rampage took a few moments to absorb all of this, before asking shakily, "So you're saying...I'm just a wandering spirit now? Like Starscream?" The analogy had not been made without purpose, and the voice knew that as well.

_No,_ it answered flatly, _You have not quite become your ancestor yet. There is still hope for you._

"So my way to get out of here is...?"

_Faith. Belief. Trust. You have to acknowledge me as a trustworthy companion. But before I show you the path, we must forth retrace our steps._

"Retrace our steps? What do you mean? And how do you know I can trust you?"

The voice seemed to sigh. _You're right, you have no reason to place any sort of faith in me, but I will promise you this: I mean you no harm nor could I cause you any in the state I currently exist in._

As for turning back on the road we're on, I meant that in order to pave the road your salvation, we first have to reflect on the past and learn from our mistakes.

The transformer bristled suddenly. "I will do no such thing.

Quiet, for a moment, and then a somber inquiry, _Rampage, when was the last time you were able to remember anything before Starbase Rugby?_

Indeed, the question caught him by surprise, causing his mind to reel for a few seconds. Not to be defeated, he belligerently answered, "Of course I can remember past that time, I can remember--I can..." Rampage trailed off, desperately grasping for some shred of reminiscence of memory past the carnage of that day. There was nothing. Flashes, maybe, images of metal wires and bright lights, sensations of pain and agony, and then...nothing. Nothing at all. Clenching his fists and swallowing hard, he answered softly, "Very little. Barely anything at all."

_At least you're finally beginning to answer truthfully. But there is a reason for your ignorance Rampage, and I assure you that I place no blame upon your shoulders for choosing to forget it. The regret...it may have overwhelmed you as quickly as the pain would have._

"Regrets?" he faintly replied, then a smirk crossed his features, "I have no regrets."

_Oh, yes, you do. Regrets? Guilt? There is so much of it harbored within you, even if you are not aware of them. But they are there, forced aside and buried as deeply as memories of your first few years of life._

"And why would I bother to do that? I'm not joking--other than allowing the bastard Megatron to capture me, I have no regrets that I can remember..."

_You weren't always this arrogant, you know. There was a time when...you knew what it mean to be free, Rampage, you do. That's in there as well. You miss freedom, don't you?_

You aren't a monster, Rampage, not completely anyhow. Stop letting yourself believe in the labels people place upon you, angry, frustrated, bitter spark that you are. I **know** there is some semblance of person in you, some piece of transformer that was meant for good and still is. I've seen it. Tiny, flickering little flame, its extinguished over these years, but now...now when the time of judgement is coming closer, I want to save you. I want to ignite that flame once more Rampage. Please, trust me, I only want to help rectify the mistakes I and so many others made so long ago when we first created you.

Rampage was silent for many moments. When he did speak again, it was if he carried the burdens of a thousand years upon his shoulders. "Am I...condemned? Not just in the sense that I deserve hatred, but in Primus' eyes. If I stood before him now, not as a creature of destruction, not as an experiment, but as a transformer stripped of everything but his spark, would he...damn me?"

The silence was long and thick, stifling in its fury. And then a sound, a quiet echo of lost innocence. _Yes._

There were lights in his vision, or perhaps that was the descent of his mind spiraling into hopelessness. Or insanity. One of those two. He tried to grip onto the wall for support, but remembered too late of his transparent being. The floor rose to meet him as dizziness flowed over him in waves. "No..."

_Yes, but there is no judgement that cannot change. There are souls that have done far worse that have been granted amnesty. Those who have wrought unspeakable horrors who have, in the end, discovered paradise._

I offer you that now, Rampage. I can't promise that it will be easy or that you won't be hurt along the way. Memories of the past are strong, and the price we pay for bringing them to bear cannot be measured in any amount of carnality. You will pay with your sould, yet it will be your soul that shall be freed. So do you take my offer, Rampage? Will you walk with me in the light?

He tried to speak, but he couldn't, and desperately he reached into the darkness of it all, trying to find grasp on reality. Finally he found his voice, hoarse and trembling as it was, "Who--Who are you?"

A sigh in the darkness, then a voice. _Do you trust me Rampage?_

A hesitation, and then, "Yes...it's all I have left."

_Then I have no more secret to hide._

And as this was said, the room grew brighter, the atmosphere charged with pure, untrammeled energy that sank through his form and buried itself deep in his soul. A breeze like summer's winds, and then...a figure bright and strong...

Sparks shone like diamonds above his head as the transformer's features became clear in the obscurity.

"Oh Primus..." His optics widened. "You..."

* * *

  
**Final Notes From the Author:**

AHHHHH! Don't beat me! I'm so sorry this chapter came out so late! You see, my drive was attacked by a very evil virus, and not only did it take forever to fix our computer, I also lost all of my files. That means I had to rewrite this entire thing! *bawls* I'm so sorry!

Anyhow, dedication goes to Lady Dementia, whom I apologize to now deeply because my comp went down, and I never e-mailed you back. Gomen nasai, lo siento, please forgive me!

Next chapter: _Descent into Darkness_: The indentity of our mystery voice is revealed, a forgotten past is recognized, and Rampage takes to the first dive to the darkness of remembrance.

Til next time,   
Chaotic Serenity 


End file.
